Never Let Anyone Know That They Get to You
by offtheupright
Summary: For Nick and Judy it's better to look at the bigger picture, no matter how much you want the smaller one. Or so they think.
1. Chapter 1

A roar of thunder rattles the window and shakes me awake. My heart skips a beat before firing blood to my head, dissolving the sleep that hangs in the corners of my eyes. It takes me a moment to remember where I am and how I got here, but the panic only lasts a split-second. I'm awake, I'm alert. I'm secure.

I wriggle a little to adjust my position on the bed, taking care not to disturb my passenger. I'm uncomfortable: this bed is far too small; it's way too hot in here; the pillow supports my head about as well as a sheet of tissue, and the mattress springs are digging into my back. But she seems content, so I can suffer it for now. I can sleep in my own bed and get a drink of water some other time, but I don't get many chances to do stuff like this.

I don't remember when or how she ended up falling asleep on me. I don't think she did it intentionally. Heck, I don't think we were meant to fall asleep at all. All I can recall is the storm came as we were walking home from our shift, and as her place was nearest she invited me in so I wouldn't have to walk home in the weather. How we went from there to here is anyone's guess. Perhaps we were lying against the wall and we both sort of fell down, or maybe she's mistaken me for the cuddly toy wedged against the wall. Not that it matters how we came to be where we are, I'm just grateful for the opportunity.

My eyes sink down to the floor of their sockets, and I see her again. A flutter in my stomach twists the corners of my lips into a smile. I don't think she's moved an inch in however long it's been since I last looked at her, but the gentle twitching of her nose tells me it's just pure, fitful slumber. She must have been asleep for a good few hours now, and the alarm clock says it's only half past nine. I don't blame her though – she pours her heart and soul into her job, and a little bunny can only carry so much energy. Work and sleep are probably the only things she ever does.

Cautiously I reach down and lay a paw over her back. Her only response is to sink deeper into my chest, which draws the pink out in my cheeks. Somehow she's found one of the gaps between the buttons of my shirt, and I can feel the soft fur of her cheek against my breastbone. I wonder if she can feel me. Can she feel my heart beating against her face? Can she feel my arms cradling her? Can she feel the mixed emotions tearing through my head?

I knew something was missing when I came back to consciousness, and slowly but surely it's crawled its way back into my mind: the squeeze. A horrible tightness in my stomach that's only grown stronger the more aware I've become of my surroundings. I feel it twist my gut into a tight knot of insecurity, which quickly pushes upwards until it's a dull ache in my head. I sigh as quietly as I can. I'm not frustrated because I feel bad, but because I know the source of it: it's not hunger or illness, it's the little ball of fluff using me as a pillow.

The thunder rumbles again, and she grips my ribs tighter. I put my second arm on her back to reassure her, and sure enough she settles again. She's calm, but with her securely in my grip it only makes me feel worse. If only she knew how she makes me feel. She…inspires me. No one else throws themselves into life quite like she does. Every shift she starts and ends bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like she's raring to go, even if the first thing she does after she gets home is collapse into bed. I've never seen someone enjoy their job as much as she has. Traffic duty or criminal investigation, she's into it every step of the way; never lets up, never looks back, and always smiling. She never gives up on anything, not even me. Mr. Sly, Untrustworthy Predator, whom she met as a con-artist who preyed on her naivety and generally treated her as a dumb little kid. And now I'm her partner in law, who she picked up off the street and recruited as her one and only companion on the beat. Who she has defended at every turn from every critic with nothing but pure, heartfelt sincerity.

She's one of a kind, she really is. Before her I had nothing. I had a decent amount of money, I guess, but money can only fill so many holes; it's paper over the cracks. She's filled the holes I didn't even know I had, however, and I feel privileged to know her, let alone have her as a friend. The fact that she's hanging onto me like she needs me to survive is only a bonus, but it's a bonus that comes at a price.

I love her, and I'm not afraid to say that to myself. I'm just afraid to say it to her. She's amazing in every sense: thoughtful, charming, caring, beautiful, I could spend days listing off the adjectives. She's the perfect partner on the job, and I would love to have her as the partner to my life as well. But I've said nothing so far, and I don't intend to say anything either. There's just too much at stake.

Say we start dating: what will her parents say? What will my mother say? What will all of those people out there say about a fox dating a bunny? And what if it all goes wrong? We work together – every day would just be one, long reminder of a failed romance. Worst of all, though: what if I lost her in the emotional sense? Right now she treats me as her best friend. If I go on to join her locker of failed boyfriends, will that change her? Will she no longer look at me with that same caring expression? No longer go with me to places and get lunch with? Would she request a new beat partner entirely? The very thought of it makes me shudder. And anyway, what if I'm reading her intentions incorrectly? I sorta feel like she likes me as well. She's sleeping on me, after all, but what does that prove? For all I know she might be dreaming about Gazelle's dancers or that pie-baking fox back home she once told me about. What if I'm just her prop, a stand-in, when really this tender hug and contented face are for someone else's chest? Maybe she just sees me as her friend, and if I were to ask her out and she said no…well, at least a failed romance was still a romance even for a little while. Losing someone special because of my own delusions would just be too much to take.

I yawn and my eyes flicker. I guess it's all this thinking that's made me so tired, but I'm thankful for it. It'll give me some respite from my emotions. I settle down into the bedsheets and steal one last look at her before my eyes shut. Still happy to be where she is, but I resist the urge to dwell on it even as I curl my arms tightly around her body. It's just not worth it. It's a pain, but one worth enduring when the alternative could be even more excruciating. I've had my heart ripped apart before and bounced back, but if it were her paws doing it I don't think life would be worth living anymore. As much as I love her, I live by my motto: never let anyone know that they get to you. Even if you want them to.

* * *

 **Ahh, how good it feels to be back in the swing of things. ^_^  
**

 **This is an idea I've had swirling around my head the past few days. It sounded better in my mind than has been executed here (same with all things, I guess), but I wouldn't be publishing it if I didn't think I'd done it some kind of justice.**

 **I did my best, so I hope you like it. Reviews and feedback are always appreciated. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

I don't know what it is that wakes me up. Maybe it's the rain pattering on the window, or the temperature. Or maybe I'm just done with sleep for another night. Regardless, I'm awake now, and with a groan my eyes lever open. Nope, it's not the third option. My eyelids feel like lead, and a glance at the alarm clock burns sometime after Midnight into my retinas. What time exactly I'm too tired to see, but it makes its point. Why my body felt the need to wake me up in this state is a mystery, but it doesn't last long as I become aware of my surroundings.

I sense I'm not lying on my mattress, but something else. Someone else. Blood rushes to my face and wakes me up, but I resist the urge to flail myself free. In the nick of time my memories career into me like a speeding elephant, and my body falls numbly into his. Let's not wake him up and make this more awkward than it already is, and more importantly let's not disrupt a moment I'm in no hurry to end.

My mind plays back to me how we got here. We were walking home from our shift and it started thundering; my place was closest, so we came back here. I assume the intent was for Nick to wait for it to pass and then head on home, but clearly it never got to that. I can't recall the buildup to falling asleep, only that it wasn't our intention. Last I remember we were sitting on the bed, backs against the wall, both bored and feeling a little drowsy because of it. After that is a blur, but I have a sense of what went on. The only question that remains in my mind is how aware was I of what I was doing?

I can't have got into this position accidentally. Let's assume we both slid down the wall and landed on top of one another – at best I reckon I'd reach his waist, though his knees or thighs are far more likely. To be perched on his chest like I am I'd have to either climb up him or be pulled up here by him, and I severely doubt it was the latter. Yeah, he has his arms around me, but that means nothing. He probably just sensed something latched onto him and instinctively reached around it. Me, however? I'm not here by accident, even if I didn't know what I was doing. And I don't have a problem with that.

I relax my head into his sternum, sliding my arms further up his sides so I can hold him more comfortably. It's hard for me to put into words how I feel about Nick. Sure, I can say nice things about him, but I would never, ever say he's perfect. I'd call him funny and charming and sweet, and in the same breath call him irritating and self-loving. And yet that's the thing I like most about him. You can't depend on him to reply to what you say without some snark or a joke or a twitch of those sly fox eyebrows, but that just makes him all the more…real. He doesn't pretend to be perfect or embody perfection, but he does try to be the best he can be, and that's what makes him good. And Nick is good. It doesn't matter what anyone else says, he is a good person. He might hide it at times, but deep down he knows what's right and wrong and cares about making things better. If people don't want to see that then that's their loss – they're missing out on a good, upstanding citizen of this great city.

Maybe this is a strange thing to say about a fox who, upon meeting me, used me to his advantage, and was quite happy to continue treating me as a stupid little bunny until I blackmailed him. But people change, and he did. Old Nick was a product of his environment – a good guy told he wasn't allowed to be that by virtue of being born a fox. When presented with the opportunity to be good or carry on conning people, he chose good. Nick's a bit of a shapeshifter, but deep down I know he's good, and so far he hasn't proved my feelings wrong.

I suppose this all goes some way to explaining why I'm lying on top of him. Consciously or unconsciously, it's what I want. To be with him and hold him close, and have him hold me in return. Just lying here with my head in his chest and his arms around me I feel at peace. For the most part, anyway – there's still a little bit of discomfort shaking inside me. Maybe because I'm doing this without his permission, or maybe because I undid his shirt buttons just enough to lie on his bare chest without him noticing I'd fiddled with his clothes. But mostly, however, I think it's because this is the best I'm probably going to get.

Nick is someone who cares, and I know he does. He cares about his job; about me; about making Zootopia the best place possible for people to live so that they don't have to suffer like he did. But as I said, he's not perfect. A lot of his caring he hides behind his mask.

When I first started with the ZPD I attended a seminar about identifying suspicious behaviour, and one thing they mentioned was superficial charm. Nick's charm is anything but superficial, but he is prone to using it to hide how he really feels. That's not his fault, he was forced to by circumstance, but he does it and continues to do so even now. He will never, ever let himself be seen as anything other than that smooth, suave fox with bags of charisma who can talk his way out of anything. I'd wager I'm the only person he's ever let see the vulnerability underneath, the only one who knows just how many evenings he spends alone in his house and how much he worries about getting things wrong, and that only makes me like him more. He's charming and funny, but caring and sensitive as well. He's the complete package, and I love him even though that package isn't always easy to handle. You don't fall for someone just because you love them at their best, but because you love them for what they are. Yeah, Nick can be inappropriate, irritating, and he's a bit on the scrawny side, but he's a loving person who gives every last piece of himself to doing what he feels his right. The problem is he'll never admit to it.

Nick's most prized possession is his mask. It got him through the tough years, and even though things are pretty good for him now he holds onto it, just in case. I don't blame him, but it doesn't make life any easier for myself, because what's the point of telling someone like that that you like them? You're asking someone who compulsively hides their emotions to open up and trust you'd do them no harm. I would never, ever want to harm him, but how can he know that? Why would he put a peace of mind he's waited so long to have into the paws of someone who could end up hurting him in the end?

I yawn, and my eyelids start to sink. As much as it pains me to say it, there's no point in asking him on a date – it would only spook him. Send him spiralling into an internal conflict over whether to cave and open up or retreat into his shell to protect himself, and I know 'protect' would win. Right now I'm the only person he trusts, and telling him would only dent his confidence in me. He'd find a way to get away from me: make excuses to cancel get-togethers; request a new partner at work, anything to protect himself from the difficult question of whether or not he should let his guard down for me. Assuming he likes me in return, of course, but regardless the outcome would be the same: alienation and breaking apart. He's lonely enough as is without me making things worse, and while it would hurt me to lose him it would hurt him even more. For the greater good, I'm going to remain in silence, even if it does hurt me to not at least try.

I settle myself into Nick as my body warns me of impending sleep. I bury my head into his chest and listen to the gentle beat of his heart, and in that moment I can't think of a place I'd rather be. A small sting rattles my chest as I realise I can never have this, but I push it down and let myself relax. It's for the best.

A memory hits my head as my eyes flicker shut. Aptly, it's Nick, up in the gondola on that rainy night where we almost got killed, and he's reciting his motto to me. It sticks to me as I descend back into sleep, and my head gently nods as it echoes around my head: never let anyone know that they get to you. Even if you want them to.

* * *

 **Yeah, remember how I originally said this was a oneshot? I lied. XD I originally intended not to go any further with it, but some persuasion led me to dig a little deeper, so here's a second chapter. I don't intend for this to be the last either - possibly two more from here. I'll see how it goes. :)**

 **I suppose this was inevitable. XD For me it was more interesting to think about how to categorise Judy's affection, and in the end I went for quasi-maternal. Judy's a selfless gal who wants to make other people happy, and Nick is no exception, it's just in this instance things run much deeper than 'keep order in town'. I imagine she'd want to be his rock, someone he can tie his happiness to and depend on for support whenever he needs it, but she's intelligent enough to know that things are never that simple, and so here we are. Bless 'em - if only they could read minds. :(**

 **Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated! ^_^**


	3. Chapter 3

I'm in pain.

It takes a few seconds for my body to let me know I'm in agony, but it does, and it doesn't spare any detail. My face and chest and arms and legs all scream, rattling every joint and fibre until my entire being is just one big ball of hurt. I breathe deeply to keep my cool, and it just about placates my aches, but being my typically overconfident self I try to sit up in bed and I'm duly punished for it.

I fall flat on my back and breathe until I'm somewhat settled again, and once the last throbs soothe try to place where I am. I'm in a bed, possibly mine, although if it is someone's been kind enough to clean it for me. Same goes for the room I'm in. It could be home, but in my agonised state I don't trust myself to call it correctly. My mind is a mess – mysteries can wait until I've had some rest.

As my eyes wander around my setting they stop at the wall directly opposite me. Screwed into it is a mirror, and in it I can see my state. My left eye is black and swollen; my right ear is nicked like a key, and the ugliest cut I've ever seen is carving my snout in two. My mouth drops open in shock, and promptly closes again when I see I'm missing a handful of teeth. At least that explains my pain, though it only worsens my befuddled brain as the old mystery is replaced with a bigger, more frightening one: what on earth happened to me?

My thoughts are interrupted by a hammering at the door. I bolt upright, too startled to even feel the pain of doing so. Who could that be? Its volume leads me to assume a large creature like Bogo, but I can't imagine why he'd be paying me a visit outside of the ZPD Headquarters. Besides, the knocking sounds too frantic, too desperate, like a barrage of small paws coming together to make one big noise.

"Come in," I say uncertainly.

The door bursts open, and a rabbit comes sprinting towards me. Out of instinct I fall flat on the bed and brace myself for an especially painful impact, but it never comes. She stops herself at my bedside, her paws raised like she wanted to grab me, but something clearly held her back. Perhaps she realised in the nick of time that grabbing someone isn't the most polite way of introducing yourself, but her big, teary eyes and heaving chest tell me she's simply stunned by my appearance.

"N-Nick," she stammers.

I feel bad, very bad. Possibly even worse than the pain my body's generating. It's stupid, I know – I've done nothing wrong (I think), but seeing how I've made her feel, even if it wasn't my fault, stirs up worry inside of me. I open my mouth to speak, offer her reassurances, but the words won't come. All I can do is lie and look and feel awful.

She levers herself up onto a chair at my bedside and leans over me, not once breaking the deadlock between our eyes. Neither of us can look away. I try to add to it – speak, move, blink, anything – but nothing comes. It takes her expression morphing from tears of sorrow to tears of fury to move things along.

"When I find the people who did this to you," she seethes like a demon, "I'll do more than just lock them up. I'll pull every string I can to make sure those lowlives never see daylight again. I don't care whose toes I have to step on or if I end up losing my job over it, they messed with the wrong bunny."

It's the angriest I've ever heard her, angrier than I thought possible. It clearly shows on my face, as she seizes up like she can see she's freaked me out.

"I'm sorry," she says, ears flopping down to her sides, "I'm running on coffee and emotions. They wouldn't let me visit until morning, and I couldn't sleep last night thinking about what happened. But it's all okay now. I'm here, you're stable; it's all going to be fine."

She reaches out towards me and strokes my cheek. It feels nice, even if it's aggravating some bruising there. It soothes me enough to rediscover my voice and ask the burning question in my mind.

"What happened to me?"

It comes out as a faint croak, and she pours me a glass of water before she even says a word. As she holds it to my mouth to let me lap at it she says her piece.

"I don't know exactly what happened, I wasn't there. I only have the witness statement that Bogo showed me to go on. It said that you were walking home at night after a shift and got jumped by a gang of five panthers, I assume for your phone and money and such. According to the statement they beat you for a while after you resisted, but fled when one of them found your police ID in your wallet. Luckily a witness saw it all unfold and was able to call an ambulance right away." Her voice cracks, "That doesn't make it any better to see you as you are though."

She leans over me at a perilous angle, like she wants to fall on me and smother me, protect me from the horrible things in the world. Fresh tears start to pool in the corners of her eyes, and my throat tightens.

"H-How do you feel?" she stammers, "Is it as bad as it looks?"

"Yeah," I whisper. Her face somehow sinks further.

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable? If you need more painkillers I'll drag a nurse in here if you like."

"It's not the pain that's the problem."

"Oh, what is it then?"

I sigh, "It's the fact that I'm going to lose my title of sexiest fox in Zootopia."

I don't know why I said that. I'm still mulling over the sheer stupidity of it in my head for a good few moments after saying it. I had good reason: Judy's sadness was killing me. I just wanted to lighten the tone and hopefully cheer her up for my own sake, but making a stupid joke like that? When I'm lying beaten to within an inch of my life? Smooth, Wilde.

I steal a look at her. She's staring at me dumbstruck, even more surprised than I am at the words that came out of my mouth. All I can think to do is give her a goofy smile. Well, if you've already dug your own grave what's a few more feet? I wait for her to explode at my inappropriate humour, but she doesn't. She smiles, and laughs, and keels over.

"Nicholas Wilde, I could just kill you right now," she says through the giggles. She rests her head on the side of the bed and bangs it off the mattress a few times. "You are such a big, big pain."

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Because...because...come here!"

She climbs onto the bed and squeezes my neck in a tight hug. My body yells in protest, but I'm not listening. Every inch of her fur against mine is the best medicine I've ever tasted.

She shifts her grip so she can cradle my head, and I don't resist as she rests it in her lap. She rocks me from side to side, and a smile of bliss forms on my swollen lips.

"You still haven't answered my question," I say cheekily. I can't help myself. I'm bloodied to a pulp, but having my face stroked by a happy and smiling Judy that I've cheered up has thrust me into a good mood.

"Oh, okay. Hmm, this is a very tough one indeed. Let me put your head down and climb off this bed while I think of an answer."

Damn. She's almost as good as me these days.

"On second thoughts, I think I can live with this mystery," I say.

She chuckles. "I thought so."

I reopen my eyes so I can look at her. There's still tears in her eyes, but they shine along with her smile.

"You're such a pest, but you're my pest," she says, "I'm glad you're still feeling yourself."

"And I'm glad you're here to be my nurse." I wink, "It's a shame you didn't come in the outfit though."

I surprise myself again with that line, but I approve. I'm on a roll, and she seems to like it. Sure enough she laughs.

"Don't push it," she says, waving her paw as if she wants to give me a playful slap but knows she shouldn't.

"Well at the very least can you kiss me better?" I wheedle. She rolls her eyes.

"Alright then, you cheeky so-and-so."

She bends down, and I crane my neck as best I can and pucker my lips to receive a dose of bliss, and then I wake up.

The darkness stuns me, as does the sudden lack of pain in my body. I lie there beached as the reality sinks in, and when it does I resist the urge to punch the wall. Judy's not rushing to my bedside, she's not laughing at my snark and cradling my head and leaning down to kiss me. She's just lying on me while she dreams of some other man and pretends I'm him.

I start to feel nauseous, so I gently lever Judy off of me and climb out of bed. The clock shines 4am right into my eyes as I stand at the window, glaring at the moonlight with bloodshot eyes. I'm going to be dead by tonight, be it through tiredness or carelessness, or my soul being ripped clean out of my body. It's not fair. It's just not fair. Even in my sleep I'm tormented by my obsession with her and the fact that she'll never be mine. I try so hard to look away, distract myself and hold my tongue in the name of the greater good, and this is how my mind repays me. I'm distraught, I'm in despair, and I've...I've...I've had enough.

"Judy Hopps," I whisper, barely loud enough to hear even under my mouth, "I think you're amazing. I've never known anyone like you. No one else has treat me with the same care and friendship as you have. You're my best friend, but I want to go one step further. I know you might think that's weird or scary, but I promise that I will never, ever, ever hurt you. You mean far too damn much to me to just play with you like that. I know you may not feel the same way as I do right now, but please just give me a go. If it doesn't work it doesn't work, I can live with that, but I plead with you to just try me for a little while. I will give you everything I can possibly give and more, I just want you to be with me so I can show you that. Show you properly how much I care."

My throat stings as I breathe out the last word, but the knot in my stomach unravels with a huge burst of relief. That felt good. So much pent up anguish and frustration, finally released. But now that I've let it out and said it it dawns on me that it's not enough. I want more.

I stroll back over to the bed and scoop up Judy, setting her down on my chest as I lie down again. Like before her arms slip around my ribs as she cuddles my breast. In my mind plays the thought of her dreams, the thought of her doing the same thing to a dancer or one of the muscular enforcers from work, while I watch helplessly from the sidelines. My eyes steel with disgust. Not at her, but at myself. That's my future as things currently stand. If I say nothing she's always going to be dreaming of those men, and eventually she'll get one, and that's me finished. If I say something then I at least stand a chance of winning her over. Maybe it'll spook her, I don't know, but I've reached breaking point. Now that I've seen what it looks like I want Judy for myself. I want her to run to me; keep vigil at my bedside; cry when I've been hurt; laugh when I tell her jokes; hold me close and kiss me and mean it. I want her to say that she loves me, but that isn't going to happen unless I step up to the plate.

And I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna risk it and try to win her hand. 'The greater good' be damned – what's good about standing idly and torturing yourself because you're too much of a coward to take a chance? I've lived my life thinking silence and self-preservation is my road to happiness, but what has it brought me other than little patches of relief in an otherwise miserable time? I've avoided rocking a boat that's taken me nowhere, and I've had enough. What is it that Judy keeps saying? Try Everything? Well I think I'll join her, just this once. Hopefully she doesn't choose now to change her philosophy as well.

My face softens and my eyelids weaken as I look at her, content in my embrace. Should I wake her up and get it over with? A yawn answers for me. I really do need to sleep if I want to stand a chance of getting through tomorrow's shift. Reluctantly I let my head sink into the pillow, and feel myself drift away. At least I'm more comfortable now, and hopefully whatever dreams befall me before the alarm goes off will reflect that. Waiting also gives me time to think of how best to approach and tell her what I want to say. My positivity surprises me, but I appreciate it. I owe it to myself to look up rather than at my feet for once. Perhaps my old mantra needs a small tweak: never let anyone know that they get to you. Except when you want them to.

* * *

 **Well, I've decided to change things up a little. I didn't want to just leave it at 'forlorn friends have no idea they feel the same way', so here we are. It also gives me an opportunity to further expand on my interpretation of the characters and explore better how they think, act and react.  
**

 **I know Nick's feels. I reached the same breaking point (not the exact same scenario, but the same concept) a few years back, and I've been better for it since. Here's hoping it works out the same for you, bud. ;) I'm not quite done with this story yet, though - one chapter more, methinks. :)**

 **Reviews are greatly appreciated! :)**


	4. Chapter 4

The world falls on me like a piano. No buildup, no context, I'm just there. In my room, shutting out the squabbles of my neighbours as I engross myself in a game of Beehive Bedlam. My better half occasionally casts an eye away from my phone, to the neglected book on my bedside table, but those flowers aren't going to match themselves. That's the excuse I've used the past three nights, anyway. The new Police manual for dealing with large protests will have to wait.

I'm interrupted by a knock on my door. At first I suspect my neighbours, likely trying to get me involved in another one of their late-night movie sessions, but the arguing on the other side of the wall continues as normal. I furrow my brow. Who on earth could it be at this hour? I check my clock on the off-chance I've been playing video games all night and Bogo has come to drag me to work, but it's only 9pm. Shrugging, I climb off the bed and make my way to the door.

A shadow casts over me as I open up. I crane my neck upwards and recognise a familiar fox, though not as I know him. He's not wearing his Police uniform, nor his favourite gaudy shirt and tie combo, but a suit. It's a bigger shock to me than the fact he's here in the first place, and it only grows as I study him. It's deep blue in colour, perfectly pressed and creaseless, and immaculately tailored. Nick's never struck me as the sort of guy to buy tailored clothing, but the way the lines angle over his shoulders and down his flanks, and the perfect length and width on the sleeves and legs, and the slight hint of cologne that hangs in the air…

I feel my heart thud in my chest. He looks nice. Great, even, which is why it dampens my spirits when I see that the look on his face is anything but.

"H-Hey," I finally say. Did I take too long to speak? I did, didn't I? Uh-oh. Your co-worker turns up on your doorstep looking emotionally distraught, and the first thing he sees you do is ogle him. Real smooth, Hopps.

"Hey," he replies. If he noticed me looking he isn't showing it, thankfully, but he can't hide the deflation in his voice. It slows down my own pulse.

"What are you doing here at this hour?"

He shrugs. "I was in the area and…I just needed to see a friend. Can I come in?"

I open the door all the way, and he saunters inside. He walks like the remorseful prisoners being escorted back to their holding cells. I take my time closing the door so he can't see the emotions playing on my face. Nothing makes sense to me at the moment – Nick turning up late at night, dressed to the nines, and trying and failing to put a mask over his clearly miserable mood – and it's worrying me. What's going on?

I slowly turn around to face him. He's slumped against my wall, knees pulled up to his chest, fiddling with the expensive watch on his wrist. I force myself to smile.

"So, how can I help?"

He shrugs. "Done anything exciting today?"

"Not really. Went to investigate a burglary and an incident at a mechanic's shop, both of which turned out to be false alarms. Yourself?"

"Same old, same old."

I see through the lie instantly, and that's the biggest shock of all. Nick being dressed up and a bit downtrodden? Unusual, but I can believe it, but Nick being unable to lie with a straight face? That's pure fantasy. Something is wrong, and I need to get to the bottom of it. But I also need to tread carefully.

"Are you sure?" I say innocently. His eyes lift from the floor to look at me.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh nothing, really. It's just something seems a bit different about you tonight." I start sauntering towards him. "Nice suit," I add, as if it was an afterthought, "When did you get that?"

"Oh, this? It's just some old thing I had lying around."

I sit down next to him against the wall, but keep a little bit of distance between us.

"Okay," I nod, "It's very nice, though. Not what I'd expect to see you wearing day-to-day. Looks like the sort of thing you'd wear to a special occasion, if you ask me."

He looks across at me, and I can see the discomfort in his eyes. He knows I've seen through his act. No point in continuing with the formalities, I guess.

"Are you alright?" I ask him.

I can see the conflict in his face as he looks at me, weighing up whether or not to drop his mask while trying to keep it in place.

"I've been better, but I'm alright," he says casually, but now that I've got him in a corner I'm not giving up.

"Nick, I don't mean to sound forceful, but something doesn't seem right with you. You've shown up here sounding upset and saying you want to see me, and that doesn't sound good. Is everything okay?"

"It's fine."

"Nick, you don't have to lie to me. You know I'm always in your corner, but I can't help you with your problems if you don't tell me what's upsetting you. I know you've come to me because you don't feel right, but to make things better you have to tell me what's chewing you up."

He looks to the floor again, lips firmly shut. I worry he's clamming up for good when they suddenly part.

"I got stood up."

Yet again I'm taken by surprise. Stood up? Nick's been on a date? Well, tried to go on a date? Since when was Nick seeing people? I didn't know that. Worry swells in my chest, but I force it down. This isn't about me.

I reach out and place my hand on his arm.

"I'm so sorry," I whisper, "What happened?"

"I met this girl on Cinder. My age; zebra; had a lot in common. We messaged for a while and I thought we got along really well, so I decided to ask her on a date. She said okay, so I booked a table for tonight at that pretentious place down on Howard Avenue. I turned up and waited for her, and waited, and waited, and waited…and then the waiters asked me if I could leave so a couple could have my table. So I left with my tail between my legs and I came here."

I scoot in closer and hug him. My face is soft and motherly, but deep down I'm angry. Angry at the heartless person who would do such a thing, and do such a thing to Nick in particular. Break the heart of such a funny, charming, sweet, lovely, handsome…

"It's not so much that, though," he continues, snapping me out of my trance, "It's the fact that it reaffirmed to me what I already knew."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"I've been using that site for ages now. Read countless profiles and sent off plenty of messages, and I've gotten nowhere. Of the messages I send off I'd say I get a reply once every fifty times, and only one of them has ever resulted in a date. And you know why? Because no one wants to date a predator. The majority of the profiles I look at explicitly state they don't date predators, and countless more believe it but are too polite to mention it, so they just don't reply to your messages or make excuses. Basically, even when I think I'm in business I'm just being strung along. I wanted to believe that wasn't the case, that it was just a competitive market, and I thought tonight was finally going to prove that for me. Instead it just proved what I was living in denial about: no one wants a sly, untrustworthy fox."

His head slumps forward, and though he doesn't look like he's going to cry it's the closest to it I've ever seen him. I latch myself onto his arm and place my head on his shoulder.

"I'm so, so sorry," I say, "You deserve so much better than those hateful jerks anyway."

"I do," he nods, "But unfortunately hateful jerks seem to be the majority, so here I am."

The anger inside of me is threatening to rip open my chest at this stage. How dare they be so hateful and bigoted! Taking a good, upstanding fox and ripping his heart out just because he was born the way he is. It's shameful, a disgrace. I want to find all of the people who've balked on him, not just that zebra, and punch them, but I force myself to take deep breaths. Now's not the time for violence, it's about making a friend feel better.

"On behalf of prey everywhere I'm so sorry for how you've been treated," I say, but Nick raises a hand.

"Don't apologise for things you didn't do. I don't blame prey, I blame jerks, and you're anything but one of them. I just wish more people were like you." He chuckles, "Screw girlfriends and all of that junk. You'll always be my favourite girl."

I don't know what it is about that line, but it sets me off. Perhaps it's the fact that I feel sorry for him, or he singles me out as his favourite, or maybe that I'm pressed close against him, but whatever it is it gets a motor revving inside of me. I release my grip and crawl around so that I'm sat in front of him. His head tilts up to meet mine, and we lock eyes.

Something comes over me. I see it in the warm, watery innocence of his eyes; the smooth contours of his body in that suit; the intoxicating smell of the cologne on his neck. I can't place exactly what it is, but it wraps around the thoughts in my head, the thoughts of Nick's futile quest for romance, and takes control of my body.

"Carrots?" he says confusedly, but I silence him by grabbing his face, pushing him back against the wall, and smothering his lips with a kiss.

I wake up with a mouthful of chest fur between my puckered lips. I spit it out as my cheeks light up with embarrassment. Thankfully it doesn't wake him – being caught lying on him would be awkward enough without him seeing I'm sucking his body as well. Laughing to myself, I relax into his body and lament. It was all a dream. I guess I should have known from the start – me bunking off from reading up on Police procedures? Never gonna happen, but that doesn't make it all any less disappointing.

I sense the faint light in the room and glance over at the clock. 6am. Not quite time to get up, but at this stage there's not much point in going back to bed. I ease myself out of Nick's arms and off the bed, but only take my eyes off him to collect a bottle of carrot juice from the fridge. As I drink it I sit against the wall, the same spot I occupied in my mind, and watch him sleep. He seems strangely vulnerable while he's asleep, but then I guess it's the one time he's not in control of his mask. From here his face looks soft, at peace but with no layer of defence in front of it. It makes me think of the face I saw in my dream.

Suddenly I'm pounded with memories. Opening the door; touching his arm; feeling anger on his behalf, and finally kissing him. At first I feel a little apprehensive about it like I always do, but as I dwell on it my nerves slowly turn to steel. I saw Nick get hurt, and it was my fault. I may not have stood him up or not replied to his messages or stuck disclaimers on my profile page, but I did love him and do nothing about it. I sat quietly on the sidelines and let him chase people who didn't care about him, and by the time I did something about it he'd been through the wringer and back again. A happy ending, sure, but not before some completely unnecessary suffering on his part.

I stare at him down the barrel of my raised juice bottle. Am I really doing him a favour by staying silent on my feelings for him? He deserves love and respect like anyone else, and I can offer him both of those things in spades, so why should I make him run around looking for someone else just because I think I know what's best for him? Why make him risk being stood up on a big date by some heartless jerk when I can go and give him a night he'll cherish? It's not fair on him, and it's not fair on myself.

I am perfect for Nick. That's not a boast, it's a fact. I care about him more than anyone else does or will do, and I know that I can be everything he needs and more. And I've denied myself that opportunity because I'm scared I might freak him out. Well maybe he does find the idea of a bunny wanting to date him weird, but who says I can't win him over to it? Before I met him he was a petty hustler of twenty years, and I managed to convince him to join the Police. If I can do that, why is convincing him to take a bunny as his girlfriend suddenly impossible? Because I think he'll run and hide if I tell him that? He knows I'm his friend and that I always will be. If he doesn't want to go a step further I'll respect that decision and we can carry on as normal. But maybe he does want to, and I'll only find out if I take the plunge and ask him.

I cross the room and sit on the edge of the bed, next to his feet. On an urge I reach out and gently stroke his leg, and touching him triggers more memories in my mind. The feeling of his shoulders through that immaculate suit, the smell of his cologne and groomed fur, the burning heat of his cheeks as I held my face to his, and the bliss as our lips touched. I smile. I want it to be real, and I know now I'm going to do my best to make it that way. But right now? I think I'm just going to let him sleep. The alarm will wake him up eventually, but since I'm awake I might as well head off to work. It gives me a chance to catch up on yesterday's paperwork, and more importantly to think through how to go about asking for Nick's hand.

I gather my things and head for the door, but not before I've pulled the blankets back over Nick and tucked him in. He'll get a rude awakening soon, so I might as well make him comfortable while he can be. Sure enough I see a thin smile grow on his face as I watch him from the doorway, which I keep my eyes trained on for as long as I possibly can as I ease the door shut. It was nice to wake up to that; hopefully I'll be doing it again sometime soon. It might not be easy to achieve, but Gazelle told me to Try Everything and she hasn't led me astray so far.

I whistle the song to myself as I set off down the street, a small shudder of excitement propelling me on. Soon, be it today, tomorrow or whenever, I'll let Nick know that he gets to me. Because I want him to.

* * *

 **Part 4, and another change of perspective. Similar stuff, though. I'm lazy like that. XD**

 **Well, that's that for this particular story, I think. I intended on four parts and I'm staying true to my word. I think this is a nice point to end as well - the film itself taught me that slightly vague endings can be most enjoyable and opens doors for people, so why fix what isn't broken? ^_^  
**

 **Thanks to all of you for your comments, I really appreciate them. :) One last review for this chapter wouldn't go amiss either, wink wink nudge nudge. XD**


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